


Loving You Is The Antidote

by martinslawyer



Series: Golden [1]
Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Domesticity, Fluff, Helsi is the best, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, don’t be fooled by his asshole behavior he’s actually really soft, i just want soft content, its nearly 3 am don’t judge me, martín is affection starved, the only man ever, they're adjusting to their new life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:55:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25211239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martinslawyer/pseuds/martinslawyer
Summary: post-canon: Palermo and Helsinki move to live in a small quiet town in Italy so start their new life.Palermo discovers the power of affectionate gestures and tries to get used to them as Helsi has them in abundance.
Relationships: Helsinki | Mirko Dragic/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Series: Golden [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829293
Comments: 9
Kudos: 61





	Loving You Is The Antidote

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! this is my first work in this fandom and i haven’t written in a while so bear with me! 
> 
> these two have been on my mind since i finished the show last week and i just wanted to write something soft for them.  
> i hope you enjoy this as much as i did writing it💖

Martín never thought that he would get out of the bank alive.

He never thought that they all, minus poor Nairobi, would.

Sergio divided them into pairs much like he did the last time when they escaped; Lisbon and himself, Bogota and Marseille, Stockholm and Tokyo, Denver and Rio, Matias and Manila, and the rest of the gold crew.

That left Martín with Helsinki.

A surprising choice from Sergio, but no one complained. After all, they wanted to get out in one piece as soon as possible.

Which they did, considerably richer too.

Sergio asked them where they’d wanted to go and Martín looked at Helsinki, leaving the choice to him.

He was quiet for a few moments then asked Sergio to send them somewhere quiet.

He was tired of the noise.

Martín didn’t blame him at all. They desperately needed somewhere quiet.

In the end, Sergio sent them to a small town in south Italy where the grass was green and the sky was blue and it was as quiet as Helsinki had requested.

They settled in a cottage by the river, away from the concentration of houses in the admittedly already tiny town, and started their new life there.

Martín wasn’t made for domesticity, but something about the set of Helsinki’s shoulders loosening slightly as he took in the flowing river and released a deep breath made him consider sticking around for a while to see what this life has to offer him.

Even though they had settled their differences back on the floor of the bank, covered in blood and dirt, the first few days were a little awkward.

They weren’t used to existing together, by themselves, without the ruckus and bustle of the few months at the monastery, or the disastrous stay at the bank.

Helsinki was quiet.

Well, quieter than usual, at least and Martín felt his heart twinge slightly for the man. He still blamed himself for what happened to Nairobi, no matter what Helsinki told him. And he would carry that guilt with him for the rest of his life.

A couple of weeks went by and Martín started to notice Helsinki getting more comfortable by the day.

One day, Martín woke up to the strong smell of food and squinted at the ceiling of his room in bewilderment. _Was Helsinki cooking breakfast?_ He usually went out into town to have breakfast there before looking for work. He had started offering his services as a lifter of heavy things to the locals, who instantly fell in love with the gentle giant.

After freshening up in the adjacent bathroom, Martín padded to the kitchen in his shorts, robe tied around his middle. As he approached the door, he heard a faint sound of humming coming from inside along with the sound of bacon sizzling in the pan. He pinched the bridge of his nose as soon as he recognized the song Helsinki was humming.

“Helsinki I swear to god if this song is what I think it is.”

The man in question had the audacity to snort, “Good morning to you, too.”

Martín rolled his eyes heavenward and muttered a quick curse when the giant returned to his humming.

It was that fucking song, ‘That’s Amore’. He loathed that song with his entire being. And Helsinki knew that because he was witness to a wrestling match between Martín and Denver back in the monastery when the younger man just would not stop singing it. He was doing it on purpose to annoy him, Martín was sure.

He dragged a chair to sit on and gazed at Helsinki as he put plates for both of them and loaded them with food. He had also prepared some coffee and Martín quietly thanked him as he poured the black liquid in his mug.

“Why are you still here?” He asked between mouthfuls, “Don’t you have work to do in town?”

Opposite him, Helsinki paused with the fork halfway to his mouth and fixed Martín with an odd sort of look.

“Today is the grape harvest festival.” He said quietly, “I wanted to ask you if you wanted to go with me to participate..”

It was Martín’s turn to pause now. He had heard of the festival in passing the previous week but the thought hadn’t crossed his mind that Helsinki would want to attend. Let alone together.

Looking at the man, Martín couldn’t bring himself to refuse when he was looking at him in earnest after preparing him a meal.

“ _puta mierda_ ” he whispered to himself, “Yes alright I’ll go.”

Any inconvenience that Martín had thought about abruptly disappeared in the face of the brilliant smile that blossomed on Helsinki’s face. The small twinge in his chest had nothing with how his face crinkled with said smile and eyes sparkled.

Martín quickly cleared his throat and looked away.

“I’m not doing the dishes.” He declared, before rising and taking his empty plates to deposit them on the sink. He heard Helsinki’s quiet chuckle from behind as he washed his hands.

Leaving him to deal with the dishes, Martín slinked off to work on a few projects he had started to pass the time until a knock on the door of his room alerted him that it was time to go.

In their near month of staying near town, they rarely went out together. Only to get groceries and the like.

Walking beside his companion, he could see that the big man knew the area well. He moved around with the ease and familiarity that Martín didn’t possess in this foreign place.

They made their way to the town in comfortable silence, intermitted by Helsinki’s humming of that same damnable song that had Martín elbowing him every few minutes, to no avail. Helsinki seemed to immensely enjoy the way he was getting under Martín’s skin, and when Martín turned to give him a piece of his mind and saw the little smile that was playing at his mouth, he decided against it. Helsinki has been through enough, he deserved all the happiness he could get.

The festival proved to be a merry thing, everyone had gathered around to pick grapes from the vines, laughter was all around them and for the first time in years, Martín felt something akin to peace.

He and Helsinki joined a group of pickers and got some gloves and knives from them and went on their way.

Soon enough, Martín realized he was facing a problem.

He was having trouble picking the grapes hanging above him. He looked around for something to use as leverage and his eyes glinted with mischief when he spotted his companion to his left.

“say, Helsi.” He approached him leisurely, “these grapes are looking mighty high if I do say so myself.”

Helsinki turned to him and the corners of his mouth twitched with suppressed mirth when he saw the way Martín was wiggling his eyebrows at him.

“hmm, you don’t look that short to me.” He smiled and placed his knife down, wiping excess juice on his old jeans.

“i’m not, but you’re really _big_ and _strong_ ,” he flailed his arms in the air, gesturing to Helsinki’s muscles, emphasizing every word, “you wouldn’t mind helping me, would you?”

Helsinki shook his head fondly at the dramatic display and approached the shorter man, “No, _Gatito_ , I wouldn’t.”

The affectionate way he said that nickname made something warm and fragile blossom in Martín’s chest.

Helsinki dropped to his knees and gestured for Martín to hop right on, which he did, eagerly. He rose, placing his hands on Martín’s thighs for balance, and bounced him up once, adjusting his stance.

Helsinki started singing quietly while Martín picked, and he actually had a nice singing voice that one wouldn’t expect of him. He would occasionally tap on Martín’s knees along the rhythm of the song he would be singing at the time. At one point it started getting ticklish so Martín dropped his free hand over Helsinki’s to stop him, but Helsinki just kept holding it.

“Helsi, I need my hand.” He looked down at the man below him.

“No you don’t.” said Helsinki simply and Martín found that he actually liked having his hand held so he didn’t bother arguing with the man.

And that’s how they ended up roaming the vineyard, Martín sitting on Helsinki’s shoulders, with one of Helsinki’s hands holding his, and the other draped across his chest to rest on his calf.

Martín Berrote wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of affection, but that day he thought maybe he can get used to it.

The days following the festival were easier, more comfortable, and saw Martín slowly adjusting to being the object of someone’s genuine love and affection.

It started small, bushing past each other while moving around the house, Helsinki’s giant hand cupping Martín’s face and telling him he needs to rest when Martín spends too many sleepless nights working on project after project to stave off the nightmares that would plague him if he went to sleep, Helsinki staying long enough to have breakfast with Martín in the morning before going out for work, little gestures that startled and flustered Martín but ones that he loved receiving.

One day, Helsinki came back from work late and tired and when Martín opened the door for him, he leaned down and brushed a kiss on his forehead before going inside and leaving a stunned Martín behind to close the door.

It became the norm after that.

Helsinki would come back from work, place a gentle kiss on Martín’s forehead, sometimes cupping the side of his face with his big hand, then go inside and start preparing for dinner. Sometimes he would kiss him on the cheek, sometimes on the neck, but it was always soft and gentle, and left Martín wondering how he lived all his life without anyone treating him like this.

The more he did them the more Martín grew comfortable with them and soon enough he started reciprocating with gestures of his own; padding across the kitchen to place his arms around Helsinki’s middle from behind and resting his head on his back, quietly placing his hand in Helsinki’s and lacing their fingers together, and in the moments where it’s quiet and Helsinki hold him tight, he pulls back and rests their foreheads together, taking deep breaths, grounding himself to this new reality where he is loved and cherished by someone truly good and wants nothing other than to love and protect him.

He wasn’t sure why Helsinki loved him, flawed as he was, but he was damn sure that he would give his all to him and try to be better for him. Because if there was anything he was sure of, it was that Helsinki deserved the best that this world could offer.

So were his thoughts as he drifted asleep after tiredly asking if he could sleep with Helsinki that night because he hadn’t slept in a while, afraid of the nightmares that would chase him.

Before he drifted off to sleep he heard Helsi whisper in his ear: “you deserve to be loved, too, Martín Berrote.” 

And for the first time in years, Martín slept soundly through the night.


End file.
